


So Be It

by archea2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Choices, Gen, Gen or Slash Goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You," Rowena says, her sing-song tones gleeful,  "are a hedonist. Aren't you just, my bonnie lad?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Be It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the SPN kink meme, which required Sam watching Dean make a choice with these exact three words.

"You," Rowena says, her sing-song tones gleeful,  "are a hedonist. Aren't you just, my bonnie lad?"  
  
She turns to where Sam is watching in silence, his cheeks wet and scalded red. "Don't spoil the canvas," is all she says, but the words jolt Dean's heart to an electrical spike.  
  
"So God help me," he starts, only for her laughter to rise in the bunker's chiaroscuro.  
  
"God? Is yesterday's wish, Dean. Now, I see I'm going to have to repeat myself. You get a choice." Her smile grows wider, creasing her white face and baring her teeth. "That way lies madness for the Winchesters."  
  
"Dean!" Sam's voice is a scratch, a parody of his own. "Do what she says. It's not a lethal curse. I'll find something, a way out, I'll...just do it."  
  
The blade in Dean's hand perks up at the sound. It has been enchanted to hurt Sam and Sam only; to carve a series of symbols on his forehead, his cheeks, the soft canvas of his throat, that will let him live only to be hunted by any creature, human or otherwise, who sets eyes on him. Not excepting Castiel.  
  
Not excepting Dean.  
  
"A cure?" Rowena laughs. "For the Baal Syllabary? Oh, Sammy, Sammy. Your mother was one for fairy tales, then?"  
  
"Fuck you." Dean's tones are gut-deep and feral.  
  
"Hear ye, loudmouthing to my face." She sashays back to him, her mouth a thin line between laughter and threat. "Very well, then. Let me spell out what I have coming for you."  
  
As she does, her fingers join invisible dots in the darkening air. This is the witching hour, and it's all hers.  
  
"I shall not kill you either, Dean Winchester. But I shall take away your senses, all five doors of them. Your sight."  
  
Sam's eyes are on him, pleading, pooling up with brine and memories. Dean knows how Sammy sees him at this moment: on the road, infatuated with speed and the vast American land streaming on each side of Baby; eyes to the stars; eyes to the dollar-green spread of a pool table. "No, no," Sam says. "Dean, oh God, no."  
  
"Hearing."  
  
The radio's life-giving _rah rah rah_ that used to madden Sam, the consolation of a girl's sighs, the jaunty rhythms of his own voice. Sam's laughter. Sam is watching, must see how his hands clench and then unravel themselves from fists to acceptance. "No," Sam grits out.  
  
"Smelling. Taste. No more happy hours for you, _mo chroí_. It will be all the same, what I feed you - veal or rat, or...."  
  
"We'll figure it out. We always do. Dean... I'm begging you..."  
  
"Touch." Rowena's voice is quiet. "Did you hate it, little boy, when the dentist put your gums to sleep? Skin is all we have, in the end. Perhaps I'll let Sam here give you one final hug before I take you away. Why not? You won't know it."  
  
"I won't." Sam makes himself meet Dean's gaze from behind his own puffy slits. He has one last card to play, but even as he flips into in the longstanding cold, Dean's hands are slackening. "If you do this, if you shut me out, I'll never forgive you. I will hate you, Dean."  
  
Dean is looking back. Nostrils flaring, mouth open to the unprotecting salt of tears, eyes with more intensity to them than Sam ever saw - as if the blade was here to carve every presence of Sammy, past and present, into Dean's inside man - looking at Sam from the very live wire of Dean's soul.  
  
"So be it."


End file.
